


Dogs for Life

by gloss



Series: Alive in Your Life [4]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Royal Wedding, how poe met bb, plaidverse, swapping and bartering, the good kind of republicanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 07:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14732783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: "If he goes and does this thing," Finn says, "we could have some alone time.""Like what kind of alone time?""The horizontal naked kind," Finn says. He sounds so normal. Conversational. Helooksso normal, just this handsome, friendly guy. And yet what he's saying is making Poe's brain explode in pictures in a Technicolor porno fireworks display.BB the corgi attends a party while Finn and Poe try to make the most of grown-up alone time.





	Dogs for Life

**Author's Note:**

> It all began with [this tweet](https://twitter.com/bestofnextdoor/status/996059942418243584) from @BestofNextDoor.
> 
> Huge thanks to galacticproportions and Orchis for audiencing and, further, to Orchis for betaing.
> 
> Title and epigraph from [DMX](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IIS3AOtQoLA).

> _You my dog and I die for you, keep it like that,  
>  Give me unconditional love, and I give it right back._

In the late dusk, they're moseying over to the Syrian takeout place. The sky at the horizon is already purpling, but above their heads and between the buildings, it remains pale and undecided. They already had dinner and took BB out, but when Poe declared he was still hungry, Finn suggested manaeesh. Now it has to happen or, Poe swears up and down, he won't be able to sleep for thinking about the zaatar.

"Huh," Finn says, more to himself than anything else, "someone wants to borrow a corgi this weekend."

Finn is the one who finds the ad, of course. Poe can't keep track of all the different online communities and forums that Finn visits. It's a lot, basically. He's always meeting up with people to swap a six-pack for a side table or upholstering services for a down comforter, homemade kimchi for two sessions of training with Rey, all kinds of things. There's a whole web of communities out there that Finn is plugged into.

"Facebook," Finn tells him when Poe asks where the ad appeared. He gets that faint frown, just a flicker between his brows, the one that appears when he seems uncertain whether Poe's kidding or not.

"Oh, okay, I know Facebook," Poe says as they wait to cross the street.

"I would hope so, yeah." Now he's ducking his head a little and smiling. Poe goes up on tiptoe so he can lean over enough and try to see what's so funny on Finn's phone. Finn glances at him. "What are you doing, Dameron?"

Poe stumbles backward, then tries to hide the clumsiness by pushing his hair back out of his eyes. "Nothing," he says airily. When Finn reaches over to steady him, Poe grins. "You're so gallant, you know that?"

"Don't want you falling into traffic or anything." Finn's still focused on his screen as he says that. How does he _do_ that? Keep up a conversation, save Poe's life, _and_ read his phone? He's like a magician that way. He _is_ a magician.

"Why do they need it?" Poe asks. "The corgi."

The light changes and Poe beats Finn to the far curb easily. He raises his arms over his head, clasping his hands and cheering a little, but Finn just keeps smiling and not saying anything. He's not going to come out and say it. Poe knows this game. He knows it all too well. Test his patience, make him extra-fidgety and curious, draw it out deliciously-horribly. Finn excels at this.

They're in line for the manaeesh, but the place is so small that the line curves out the door. Poe's leaning against a mailbox, trying to play it cool, but gives up. 

He tried to wait, he really did, but he's too curious and Finn's far too patient for this to have ended any other way.

"So what's the ad?" Poe finally asks. 

"Oh," Finn says, looking up, his expression clearing. "I didn't tell you?"

"No!"

His lopsided smile makes Poe want to kiss him right here. "Shit, sorry. Someone wants to borrow a corgi."

"Yeah! But for what?" Poe tries to think of what a corgi is good for, but besides cuddling and drooling and shaking a sassy butt, he's coming up empty. "Not dogfighting, right?"

Finn looks disgusted. "No! Gross."

"Oh, okay, because not only is that totally wrong, I don't think corgis would be very good at it? I mean, they've got the low-center-of-gravity going for them, but that's about it." Poe squints, trying to imagine what a corgi's offensive strategy would entail. A lot of wiggling, that's all he knows.

Finn presses his hand against Poe's shoulder to get him to move and catch up with the line. They can see inside now, it's a miracle.

"They need corgis for like three, four, hours on Saturday," Finn continues.

Poe bounces on the balls of his feet. He can't decide if he should get two or three manaeesh. Three, he'll definitely be too full, but what if he gets two, but afterward he's still _slightly_ hungry? He should get three, eat two, then save the last one for breakfast. 

He could totally hold out this time, not like all the other times.

"Corgis plural?"

Finn glances at the phone, then nods. "Preferably."

"Beebs really likes other dogs," Poe says slowly. "And I do wish he'd socialize more..."

"He socializes constantly, what are you talking about?" Finn slides ahead of Poe and over the threshold to the restaurant. Now they can perch against the wainscoting as they wait. They're crammed in here, but Poe's not about to complain. Finn's leg is pressed against his in the most unmistakable way possible.

"I don't know! He might need something different. Like, more structured? I worry about him sometimes. Is he too silly?"

"He's a dog," Finn says gently, "who lives about five inches off the ground and likes to lick cement."

"Yeah, but--" Poe stops talking when Finn touches his knee. "What?"

"If he goes and does this thing," Finn says, "we could have some alone time."

"Like what kind of alone time?"

"The horizontal naked kind," Finn says. He sounds so normal. Conversational. He _looks_ so normal, just this handsome, friendly guy. And yet what he's saying is making Poe's brain explode in pictures in a Technicolor porno fireworks display. "Or vertical, up to you. Maybe both?"

Poe laughs helplessly. Heat's slipping all over his skin, on his face and down his chest. "We can do that any time. Well, not _any_ time, we have to work and sleep, but--"

"Can we do it in relative silence without fear of getting licked and-or serenaded, though?"

Poe ticks his head back and forth as he considers the question. BB _does_ like to be present for any and all human activities, he can't deny that. "Probably not, no. Why? Has this been bothering you? You should've said something!"

Finn takes a deep breath and lets it out very slowly. "I'm just saying. It might be a nice change of pace, being alone."

Nodding, Poe rubs his chin. "I'm always up for experimenting. Hey! Do you want to try blindfolds?"

"One thing at a time, maybe," Finn replies.

"Not handcuffs, though."

"Noted."

"So what's this ad _for_? Does it pay?"

"Nah, it's just a favor."

"Sorry, sorry." Poe scowls as a couple exiting trip over his feet. As if he can do anything about them; they're attached to his legs, he's stuck with them. "I think he should be paid. You shouldn't take Beebs' good nature for granted. That seems wrong."

"I thought you liked swapping and bartering, man," Finn tells him. It's true, Poe thinks an informal economy among fellow citizens is the best thing going. "Charging people for access to your dog is just..." He pauses and smirks. He knows what he's doing. "Downright _neoliberal_."

"Ugh," Poe says, slumping back, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Good point. I shouldn't pimp out my dog, fair enough. What do they need him for?"

"Party," Finn says, but after a pause. Poe frowns, about to say something, but Finn adds, quickly, "some stupid party."

"Cool, cool." Poe slides down the wainscoting. He can smell the bread baking, nearly taste the tang of zaatar. "Should he dress up?" 

"That's your main question?" 

Poe shrugs. "Yeah. Should I take him to the groomer? Maybe get him a blowout? He should feel confident going into a situation full of strangers, you know?"

"And a blowout will do that?"

"It can't hurt."

Finn smiles slow and sweet. "No, I guess not." 

*

Poe's on his knees, one hand grabbing hold of Finn's pants, the other kneading Finn's bare ass, as he bobs his head up and down, drawing his tongue along Finn's shaft.

"Christ--" 

Poe grins and straightens up a little so he can push himself _down_ Finn's dick, until it's filled his mouth and presses against his throat.

"Poe--" Urgently. Like Finn rarely gets, but when he does, watch out, everything's radiant.

"Yeah," Poe says hoarsely, eyes watering, before working on just the head. 

"Poe." Harshly, like he can't wait. _That's_ what Poe's talking about.

" _Yeah_."

"Poe!" That was just plain snappish.

Poe sits back, cock popping out his lips, saliva going cold all around his mouth. "What?"

Finn just holds up his phone. Poe has to lean back in to read the screen. How was he supposed to know he'd need his glasses for blowing his boyfriend?

**Please come get your dog.**

It had been such a nice couple hours. Finn dropped BB off at his party while Poe returned his dad's weekly call. When Finn returned, they napped a little more. They made nachos with actual queso, drank a couple beers, made out until he couldn't see straight. All those things they could have done with BB around, of course, and they _have_ , but queso makes BB burp, beer makes him fart, and he considers makeouts as foreplay for hug the wolfbaby and rub his belly.

His stomach twists, like something cold and slippery. Poe looks at Finn, who's already tucking himself back into his pants and hunting around for his shoes.

"It's fine," Finn says, "I'm sorry, I'll go get him. I'm sorry. It's fine."

As he stands up, Poe coughs, then hacks, and spits into his hand. Finn stares at him and Poe shrugs.

"I'm coming."

"Poe--"

*

He wasn't ready to get a dog. He wasn't ready to be human, to be perfectly honest. He wasn't ready. He'd only been back in the city for a couple months, after all, and his job was weird and scary and stressful. But the raid on the puppy mill wasn't something scheduled for Poe's convenience. He was only there to take some pictures.

The local shelters and rescues filled up fast with the healthiest dogs. The sicker ones went out to a foster network.

And then there was this guy, only as long as Poe's forearm, matted with mange, his stubby little legs ending in fat paws that were more open sore than skin. His eyes were bright, however, and he dug his claws into Poe's shirt and wouldn't let go.

"Looks like you two found each other," Cai, the liaison between the SPCA and rescues said as he passed.

The puppy smelled _awful_ , like manure and sweaty socks. Poe himself was starting to itch, possibly in sympathy, possibly thanks to fleas. When a few older dogs set to howling from their kennels in the trucks, the puppy tipped back his head and yelped mournfully.

"Oh, no, I'm just--" Poe turned around, trying to find the volunteer who'd asked him to hold the puppy. "No, I'm not--"

The pup howled again when Poe tried to hand him to Cai.

"Not me, brother," Cai said, backing up. "Got four of my own at home and I'm taking three more to foster."

When he put it like that, Poe realized he'd have to be a real asshole to refuse to watch this little guy overnight.

That night, Poe called him Bleeding Gums Murphy, because the puppy would not stop singing the blues. Also, his poor mouth was in terrible shape. All through the bath and clipping and then another bath after he shat himself, the puppy sang his song of woe. After a bit, Poe joined in. It made things more fun, he had to admit.

Cleaned up and trimmed, with antibiotics smeared on his paw pads and goopy medicine dripped in both ears, the pup was almost too cute to stand. He dragged one of Poe's favorite shirts, with which Poe had tried to swaddle him post-bath, like it was his security blanket. Except it was much larger than he, so he kept tripping over the fabric, stumbling, and howling again.

He insisted on sleeping with Poe, which Poe figured was fine. The puppy couldn't get on the bed, but he planted his front paws on the mattress and whined until Poe picked him up with one hand. One night, the little guy was cold and scared, what harm could it do?

It wasn't like Poe could keep him. Poe could barely make eye contact with other human beings those days. Isolation in that Communications Management Unit had taken his usual slow drumbeat of anxiety and sharpened it, turned it inward where it carved him up into something bony, clattering, and ready to fall apart at any moment. He shouldn't be responsible for a small life, no matter how cute and weird the little guy was. He couldn't be.

When one of the rescues called three days later and asked if Poe could watch the puppy a bit longer, Poe looked at the baby boss and sighed.

"Maybe you'll get me out of my head," he told BB, who snuffled agreeably. He was twisted up in his nest of Poe's flannel shirt; his fur was already growing back, prickly and speckled. Poe didn't believe what he was saying, but this was part of the whole "fake it til you make it" approach he was taking to his new life. "Make sure I keep to a routine."

BB flopped over, exposing his belly, and gazed up at Poe. He seemed convinced that this pose and expression were overwhelmingly seductive and irresistible.

He was basically right.

*

The lady who opens the door looks exhausted, her hair falling out of its updo, her cocktail dress wrinkled and spattered with moisture. Her condo is near the top of the building. Everything here is either asphalt or chrome, sterile and strangely institutional.

"Good, it's you," she says. "Take him."

"BB?" Poe calls, dropping to one knee. Finn joins him. "Beebs?"

She opens the door wider and points down a hallway. All Poe hears, however, is the clatter of BB's nails on the concrete floor. He runs down the hall, right _into_ Poe.

"What the hell?" There's gold foil around BB's thick neck, and sticky globs of something in his leg fur and smeared down his back.

"He ate his crown and half the trifle and destroyed the wedding portrait," the woman's telling Finn as Poe straightens up with BB in his arms. "With his... _piddle_."

"Piddle?" Finn asks.

She sucks in a sharp breath. "Urine. He urinated on the portrait."

"What's this sticky stuff?" Poe asks.

"Trifle." Before he can say anything, she sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "It's safe for dogs."

"Why's he have a crown?" Poe looks back and forth between the lady and Finn. "What kind of fucked-up party is this?"

There are two red spots, high on her cheeks. "Excuse me?"

"Royal wedding," Finn says, almost under his breath, like he'd rather not say.

"What?" BB yowls a little. Poe hugs him tighter. "I know, buddy, I know."

"Could you just..." She sags against the doorframe. "Do you have any idea what kind of havoc four corgis can wreak?"

"You tried to make my dog a _monarchist_!" Poe shouts and Finn tries to take his arm, but Poe shakes it off. He scrambles to his feet, dizziness swirling around his head. "What is wrong with you?"

She tilts up her chin and fixes a really stern, mean gaze on him. "I assure you, I'll never do anything like this again."

"I don't believe you," he replies.

Finn does take his arm now and that's a good thing, because Poe's getting incandescent with anger.

"I'm considering setting fire to this apartment and fleeing to Cancún," she says. "So believe me or not, I don't really care. Could you _please_ get your fucking dog out of here?"

Poe looks at Finn, then down at BB, who sneezes. "We're already gone."

"Would that that were true," she says as they head back to the elevators, BB leading the way.

"Royal wedding?" Poe asks as the fake freight elevator descends. "Didn't she die? Like, a while ago?"

Finn's rubbing BB's head, but looks up. "Who?"

"You know, the blonde one. The princess?" Poe reaches down to scritch the side of BB's face, right up under his eye where he likes it. 

"Her kid," Finn tells him, "he was getting married. I'm sorry, man, I should've thought this through--"

"What, it's not like you, you know." Poe punches the button again, as if that could get the elevator to speed up. "You didn't throw the party."

"But I knew what it was for."

"Beebs needs different experiences! For stimulation," Poe tells him. "You were just looking out for him."

Finn looks up, his mouth twisted a little. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, totally. Besides, that lady wasn't even English!" Poe clips the leash to BB's collar and adds, "sorry, bub, I know you hate this." To Finn, as he follows him out of the elevator, he says, "what does she care?"

Finn shrugs, showing his palms, like _what can you do?_

"It's not your fault," Poe tells him, in case Finn's still worried. Then he pauses. "You're not a secret monarchist, right?"

Finn lifts a brow and smirks, but then he says, "no, fuck that."

It's become funny by the time they get to the end of the mean lady's block.

"He destroyed the trifle!" Finn says and Poe high-fives him. BB yips excitedly and turns around and around in sloppy, dizzy circles. "Ate his crown! Led a canine rebellion!"

"He pissed on the groom!" Poe's face hurts from smiling. "He's the smartest dog in the _world_."

BB collapses, half on the curb, half over a sewer grate, so he can stick his nose in the gutter.

"Look at him," Finn says, arm around Poe's shoulders, voice soft, "so smart, so...thoughtful."

"He really is," Poe says, then spends a good ten minutes trying to coax BB back onto his feet so they can keep walking home.

That first night, BB slept curled up on Poe's shoulder, nose digging into the base of Poe's throat. He snored and smelled like medicine and baby shampoo. He was the most delicate being Poe had ever been this close to, by far, just some short bones and a big tummy. Most nights, Poe couldn't sleep for thoughts of the past, prison and Muran and everything he'd already lost. Loss was a sheared-off thing, enormous and deafening, irretrievable. _Geological_ , ice or mud simply clattering down.

Poe couldn't be trusted to take care of this tiny creature. 

Good thing getting trusted wasn't really up to him, then.


End file.
